How About Coffee
by FaithinBones
Summary: A coffee cart owner observes his favorite couple. Part of the Bonesology Fanfic Challenge.
1. Chapter 1

JAG'ed Bones in the Casckett would like to see a day in the life of someone who is not a regular on the show. He wanted an outsider view. This story is part of the Bonesology fanfic challenge.

I don't own Bones.

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His business was a little slow that afternoon and Mike was hoping the heavy clouds overhead didn't mean rain was coming like the Weather Channel had promised. It was hard to draw in customers when it was raining. His coffee cart did well when the temperatures weren't too hot or too cold and the sky was sunny, but right now he knew that was wishful thinking on his part. He wasn't sure why he didn't just close for up the afternoon and go home.

As he wiped down the already clean counter, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye on the path in front of his cart. Looking up, he smiled at the sight of his favorite FBI agent walking towards him. "Agent Booth, how's it going?"

Booth stepped up to the cart and slapped a five dollar bill on the counter. "Mike, great to see you and they're doing fine . . . how about coffee . . . black."

"You got it." Mike grabbed a cup and began to fill it. "Hey how's Dr. Brennan doing? I haven't see her in a while."

Booth leaned against the counter and smiled. "She'd doing okay . . . she's supposed to meet me here, but I guess she's running late."

As he poured the coffee in the cup, Mike nodded his head. "I'm glad . . . I missed you guys when you didn't come to my cart anymore. I was worried about you while you were in Afghanistan, so I was real happy when you came back in one piece . . . Me and the Misses prayed for you in church every Sunday as well as for my boy, Eric. He's still in Iraq, but he supposed to rotate back home next week."

"Thanks Mike and I'll say a little prayer for Eric on Sunday." Booth took the cup from Mike and leaned on the counter. "I know I haven't been around much for the last few weeks, but well, I was . . . my girlfriend . . . Um . . ."

Booth had been his customer for years and Mike had observed many cups of coffee shared between Booth and his partner. He'd witnessed and overheard many conversations and the hardest one had been when the FBI Agent and his partner had decided to leave their jobs for a while. Their favorite bench was a few feet away from the cart and even though it was hidden by bushes, he was close enough to hear their conversations when he had time to eavesdrop. "Hey stuff happens . . . I saw you were with someone else for a while, but I guess you're not with her anymore?"

The Agent shook his head. "Nah, that's done. Bones . . . Dr. Brennan . . . well, we're together now."

That news was very good news as far as Mike was concerned. Happy for the Agent, he handed Booth back his five. "Hey congratulations. The coffee is on me."

Grateful for the vendor's kindness, Booth shook his head and handed back the bill. "Mike, you aren't going to stay in business if you give away your coffee."

Mike grabbed Booth's hand and slapped the bill back into his palm. "Hey, I do alright."

Booth smiled and placed the bill in is jacket pocket. As he did so he saw Brennan turn the corner and come down the path towards the coffee cart. "Bones." Turning to face his partner, Booth waited until she was next to him. He placed his hand on her shoulder and kissed her. "Hey."

After she returned his kiss, Brennan turned towards Mike. "I'd like a Latte with Soy milk please." Once the cup was in her hand, Brennan passed the vendor a bill which was rejected.

"On the house, Doctor Brennan."

Pleased at the kindness, Brennan smiled. "Thank you." Once she sipped the coffee to make sure it was sweet enough, Brennan turned to face Booth. "Let's sit down. I've been on my feet all morning."

As they disappeared behind the bush to sit on the bench, Mike leaned against the counter and shamelessly listened to their conversation.

"Do you wish to go to my apartment this evening or do you wish to go to yours?" Brennan glanced at the sky and noticed the clouds were getting darker. "Rain is coming."

Booth glanced at the sky and shrugged his shoulders. "We need to stay at my apartment tonight. I have a load of laundry I need to do or I'm going to run out of clean underwear . . . although I guess I could go commando for a day or two."

Intrigued at the notion, Brennan glanced down at his lap and then back at his face. "You really do go commando?"

A grin on his face, Booth assured her. "Sometimes . . . do you?"

Slowly shaking her head, Brennan informed him. "Of course not. Slacks can be uncomfortable without panties."

His coffee forgotten, Booth placed his arm around her and pulled her closer to his side. "Are you up to seeing your father this afternoon? I know you haven't seen him since we've become a couple, but that bowler was on his team and we need his help."

The thought of her father's reaction to their new relationship worried Brennan. "I don't think we should tell him yet . . . He likes you and he's been pressing me to have a relationship with you for a long time, but . . . I just want our relationship to be ours for a while longer. So far, Angela, Hodgins and Cam are the only ones that know about our relationship, but I would like a few more days before we tell other people."

Since he didn't see any harm in her request, Booth nodded his head. "Fine . . . you know he's going to be okay with us being together, but if you want to wait then we can."

A fat drop of rain hit Booth on the top of the head. "Shit!" Standing, Booth tossed his cup in the trash barrel. "Come on Bones. We're going to have to run. We might make it to my truck if we hurry. We can wait this out there."

Mike heard them both shout as the rain started to pour down. Amused he heard their footsteps recede into the distance. Luckily for him his cart had a roof over it and he was dry. Still, he knew he might as well shut down for the afternoon and go home. As he emptied and cleaned his equipment, Mike hummed. He really loved his job. He loved people and he got to serve the best coffee in the area and he got to talk to people every day. Some people weren't worth knowing and he barely talked to them, but then there were the interesting people that made his life so interesting. Yep, he loved his job.

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	2. Chapter 2

Mendenbar wanted more. Hope this what you wanted.

Thank you for reviewing my story. I appreciate it.

I don't own Bones.

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Tristan had been a bartender at the Founding Fathers for twelve years. The hours weren't bad, the pay was good and the tips were generous. He was popular with his customers because he remembered their favorite drinks and he gave them quick service. His father had always told him that a job worth doing is worth doing well and he believed that was true.

Over the years he'd come to think of some of his customers as friends. There were just some people that were so nice, you wanted to know them.

"Take Seeley Booth. He's an FBI Agent and he first showed up at the Founding Fathers about ten years ago." Tristan was training a new bartender for the afternoon shift and he wanted to make sure his customers were treated well even if he wasn't there. "He works with Temperance Brennan."

"Oh the mystery writer?" Tedra loved murder mysteries. "The one who wrote 'Red Tape White Bones'? That book is so creepy." Tedra Doughty was new to bartending and she hoped she'd have a career at the Founding Fathers like Tristan.

As they stocked the bar in preparation for their customers, Tristan showed Tedra the stockroom and where the log sheet was. "Yeah, that's her . . . okay when you take anything from the stockroom, record it on this log. It helps the manager keep track of inventory . . . Dr. Brennan is a real forensic anthropologist and she helps Agent Booth investigate murders . . . oh as a rule, don't ask them about their cases." After he updated the sheet, Tristan picked up a case of beer and waited for Tedra to do the same. "They talk about their cases all the time, but it's not a good idea to ask them about it . . . they won't like it and well . . . Agent Booth might give you one of his looks."

"Looks?" Tedra followed Tristan out of the store room.

Once they were behind the bar, Tristan started to load the bottles of beer into the cooler. "Yeah . . . Agent Booth is a nice guy and all, but he has a temper and he can give you a look that . . . well, he can be scary when he wants to be . . . just don't ask about their cases . . . in fact, don't ask anyone about the cases they're working on. We have a lot of cops and FBI come in here and they want to relax, eat a quick meal . . . maybe have a beer or a glass of wine and they don't want nosy people bothering them."

Tedra nodded her head in understanding. "Got it." As she finished filling the cooler, Tedra noticed the manager unlock the front door. "Mr. Clayton just unlocked the door . . . it isn't eleven yet."

Used to the manager's ways, Tristan smiled. "Yeah . . . we're officially open at eleven, but he unlocks the doors around 10:45 just in case some of our customers are in a hurry." The bartender noticed Booth enter the room. "Speaking of which, that's Agent Booth. He's probably picking up some lunch. He loves Wednesday's special . . . comes in and makes an order for him and his partner and leaves. They usually don't eat lunch here. If we're going to see them it's usually in the evening, but once in a while Agent Booth comes in for the Wednesday special."

"Tristan." Booth was now standing at the bar. "Hey man, two orders of the special and add bacon to my Mac and Cheese like usual. Two mixed salads, one with Ranch and one with vinegar and oil . . . to go."

The bartender wrote his order on a pad and carried it to one of the waitresses. Once he was back, he pointed at Tedra. "Agent Booth . . . this is Tedra, she's learning the ropes around here."

Booth held out his hand and shook Tedra's hand. "Welcome aboard . . . Can I get a bottle of water while I wait?"

Tedra opened the cooler to the right of the bar and handed the water to the agent. "Here you go, Sir."

As Booth cracked the lid on the bottle open they heard the front door open and close. Turning, Booth spied his partner. "Bones, what are you doing here? I told you I'd pick up lunch and bring it to you."

Grimly, Brennan walked over to the bar and ordered a glass of Pinot Grigio. "Mr. Wells is my intern this week and I need a break from his constant nattering."

Sympathetic, Booth pointed at a nearby table. "Sit . . . we'll stay here for lunch." Booth turned to face Tristan. "Tristan, tell the waitress to bring my order to the table. Thanks . . . Oh, I'd like a cup of coffee too."

"Not a problem Agent Booth." Tristan waved over Mary Ann and pointed at Booth. "Coffee too."

Since this was not the first time they'd seen this happen the waitress smiled and walked back in to the kitchen to make sure the meal was served on plates and not in to-go boxes.

Her eyes on the couple, Tedra leaned closer to Tristan. "Mr. Wells?"

Careful to keep his voice down, Tristan explained. "Oliver Wells. He's a pain in the ass is what he is . . . the man is being trained to be an anthropologist by Dr. Brennan, but the few times I've talked to him, you'd think he was teaching her. He's so arrogant half the time I want to hit him. When he's not telling me about his hundreds of degrees he's got he's trying to teach me how to mix drinks properly. Mr. Clayton has kicked him out of here twice because he caused one of the waitresses to cry. Mr. Clayton says once more and Wells is banned for life."

"Wow, what an asshole." Tedra hated the man and she'd never met him.

Tristan agreed and nodded his head. Shortly, the couple was served their food and Booth gave Mary Ann a charm smile. The clock struck eleven and customers started entering the bar and were seated for lunch or picked up orders to go. As the minutes got busier, Tristan and Tedra filled drink orders and passed on to-go orders to Mary Ann.

At 11:45, Tedra noticed Booth and Brennan stand up. Booth placed a tip on the table, leaned over and kissed Brennan on the cheek and watched her leave. Once she was gone he walked over to the bar and sat down. "Hey . . . I'd like to order a slice of peach pie to go. No ice cream . . . oh and a large cup of coffee."

Tedra took his order and handed it to Mary Ann who took it back to the kitchen. Once she was gone, the bartender turned and took the bill Mary Ann had given Booth earlier and some currency from the Agent. "I hope you enjoyed your lunch."

"I did." Booth leaned his arms on the bar top. "I love Mac and Cheese and so does my wife. The only one that makes it better is my wife."

Glad to hear it, Tedra knew she'd have to try some for dinner. The bill rung up, she tried to give Booth his change.

Waving her away, Booth glanced at the TV near the back of the bar to see what was on. "Keep it."

Pleased that the Agent was being so generous, Tedra smiled at him. "Thank you."

His pie and coffee delivered, Booth took the bag and cup from Mary Ann. "Great service as usual Mary Ann."

Once he was gone, Mary Ann paused and leaned against the bar. "God, if only he wasn't married." With a deep sigh, the waitress hurried over to one of her tables to take an order.

Amused, Tristan shook his head. "I wish I had a quarter for every time I've heard someone say that about Agent Booth . . . oh and Dr. Brennan . . . a lot of guys have tried to pick her up when Agent Booth has gone to the bathroom and we've come pretty close to bar fights when Agent Booth came back . . . Personally, I can't figure out how guys have the guts to do that. Agent Booth is not someone to screw around with and Dr. Brennan is his wife . . . crazy ass drunks."

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	3. Chapter 3

(The Geek in the Guck)

Anne1585 wanted a little more of this theme using Gordon Wyatt.

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I don't own Bones.

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Changing professions at my age usually is a big challenge, but in this case it's been quite wonderful. I'm in my element in the kitchen. I always was, but I had a doctorate in Psychology and I couldn't let that go to waste now could I? I gave it my all until I had nothing left to give and once I graduated from culinary school, I knew that I wouldn't be happy unless I was running my own restaurant.

I do miss my former profession sometimes, but since I'm not one hundred percent free of that responsibility that isn't a problem. Much to my surprise, I still have a client that persists in using my psychological help even though I'm no longer practicing. It's just enough to ensure that I want to continue on as a Chef.

I knew about his troubles, it would be impossible not to. It was in the news for weeks . . . months really. Imprisoned for murder . . . I was shocked and I didn't believe it for a minute. I made a few phone calls and afterward I knew something was terribly wrong, but no one would really explain what was going on. I picked up quite a few clues from the people who should know what was going on and believe me the fear emanating from them was quite frightening.

In the end it was resolved and he was back at work where he belonged, but he was scared and scarred. The man I knew was changed and it worried a lot of people. As soon he was released from prison young Dr. Sweets came to see me and he left me with a great deal of angst. That angst only increased when that poor young man was murdered.

It took the exposure of a hidden conspiracy to bring everything to a head. Powerful people were incarcerated for malfeasance of office, murder, theft and treason. I was shocked at the depth of the conspiracy, but proud that it had been uncovered by a fine group of people. They were all heroes and most of them came through it unscathed. I say most of them.

Seeley Booth bore the brunt of the attack by Durant's people. His honor had be expunged on CSPAN. He'd been attacked in his own home, almost murdered, jailed, held in contempt by his fellow agents . . . really, most men would have broken under that kind of assault. And perhaps he did.

Once Sweets was murdered, I worried about Booth to the point of distraction. I couldn't idly stand by and let the man flounder and I knew that was exactly what he was doing. Sweets had confided in me before he was killed. He'd told me that Booth's trust was greatly diminished. He was so distrustful that his circle had shrunk to his wife and a few friends at the Jeffersonian. That was a bad situation indeed. The man needed to be able to trust those he worked with or it was going to get him killed. No man is an island, especially when it comes to law enforcement.

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"Agent Booth, it's so good to see you again." Gordon Wyatt stood next to the table Booth was sitting at and placed his hand on the Agent's shoulder. "Thank you for coming to see me . . . I see you have coffee. Would you like something else? I just took several pies from the oven."

Not sure why Gordon wanted to see him, Booth decided he might as well have a piece of pie while he waited to see what the man wanted from him. "Yeah . . . sure."

Waving his hand, Gordon caught the attention of one of his waitresses and ordered a slice of pie for Booth and himself as well as a glass of iced tea. After that he sat down across from the Agent. "I was sorry to hear about Sweets. He was a fine young man."

Booth slowly nodded his head. "Yeah, he was family."

The sadness in Booth's voice was unmistakable. "Yes, he was . . . I talked to him the day before he died . . . he was worried about you."

Since that news wasn't new to him, Booth remained silent and sipped his coffee.

Not surprised that Booth wasn't being forthcoming, Gordon knew he would have to work to get what he wanted. "Yes . . . he told me that you don't trust anyone now . . . well except for Dr. Brennan and a few of the people at the Lab . . . he was afraid that you were making it difficult to do your job as head of Major Crimes . . . you must know that if you don't trust the people who work for you . . . that work with you, you're placing yourself in danger."

This conversation was exactly what Booth had been afraid of and he was tempted to leave. "Why is this your business? You're a Chef aren't you? You've made that pretty clear to me in the past . . . you don't practice psychology anymore . . . you cook for a living . . . why don't you just do your job and I'll do mine."

"But that's the point." Gordon leaned forward on the table. "That's exactly the point. You can't do your job if you can't trust the people working for you. You know that. You need backup when you're out in the field."

The waitress interrupted Gordon and placed a plate in front of each man and a glass of tea in front of the Chef. Once she was gone, Gordon picked up his fork. "You know I'm right . . . Sweets said he'd found someone you could trust . . . James Aubrey . . . Sweets vetted the man. Have you given him a try?"

Furious at Wyatt, Booth was tempted to leave, but he knew that he needed to talk to someone about his situation besides Brennan and who else was there? "I've worked with him for a couple of cases. Bones thinks he's okay and that I should trust him too."

"And you trust Dr. Brennan, so what's the problem?" Gordon cut off a piece of the French Silk pie and slid it into his mouth.

Booth shook his head and stared at the slice of pie on his plate. "Bones isn't a people person . . . she could be wrong and then . . ."

Gordon waited, but Booth didn't continue. "But she isn't is she?"

Trying to put off answering, Booth sipped more of his coffee and turned his attention to the pie slice. Not a fan of pudding filled pie, Booth wrinkled his nose. "I like fruit pie." Cutting off a tiny piece he placed it in his mouth and decided he could eat it. "Aubrey seems okay . . . he wasn't at the Hoover when I was . . . he asked to be transferred to the D.C. a few months ago . . . he started a couple of weeks before I came home."

"So he's not tainted." Gordon pressed Booth. "Sweets and Dr. Brennan both vetted him for you . . . you need someone as backup Booth . . . that isn't an option, not if you want to work as an investigator . . . is that it? Do you plan to stay behind your desk and delegate?"

Irritated at Gordon's persistence, Booth placed his fork down next to his plate. "Look . . . I could do that, but I won't. I'm a damn fine investigator and I'm going to keep doing what I've been doing . . . I let Aubrey work with me the last two cases and . . . he did a good job. Bones is my partner, but I can use Aubrey when she's in the Lab . . . we have a child and Bones is trying to stay out of the field when she can . . . we don't want to risk Christine becoming an orphan if we're both killed . . . as for the other agents at the FBI . . . they're going to have to earn my trust . . . they betrayed me . . . they knew me and they betrayed me anyway. I . . . that's not easy to forgive."

"No I imagine it isn't." Gordon was relieved that Booth was going to allow Agent Aubrey to back him up. "Those agents were tricked into believing you were a murderer, Agent Booth. They were victims of Durant . . . everyone was manipulated to believe what Durant wanted them to believe . . ."

"They know me!" Booth interrupted the Chef. "They know who and what I am and they betrayed me. They weren't interested in what I said, what Bones or Caroline said . . . She was a victim too. Caroline didn't deserve to be fired. Thank God she got her job back and Bones . . . my God she was almost killed at the house trying to be my backup . . . Bones was my backup because I couldn't trust anyone else." A tear slid down his face. "I could have lost her."

"But you didn't." Gordon knew that Booth was mourning the things done to him and to his wife, to his friend Sweets and that was good. This was probably the first time Booth had let himself really mourn. "She helped get you out of prison. She and the Squints helped break open the conspiracy and clear your good name. It's amazing . . . the job you all did to expose Durant . . . it's just remarkable . . . and you have your life back. You need to let the past go and enlarge your circle. You'll be forever in danger if you don't and you know that. Those agents already know that they were wrong. They know it and they'll always know they let you down."

He was filled with sadness, but talking to Gordon seemed to have helped him at least a little bit. Booth wiped away the tears that had fallen down his cheeks while Gordon talked to him. "I can't forget, but . . . yeah, I know what you mean . . . Bones is my rock . . . she has been for a long time."

Gordon saw the tension in Booth's body lessening. It hadn't completely drained away, but it was a start. "I'd like you to drop by the restaurant a couple of times a week . . . around three when it's quiet like today . . . we can talk. I know I'm not practicing anymore, but . . . well . . . you need someone as a sounding board and I'm capable of doing that. Let me help you Booth . . . as a friend. Let me be part of your circle of trust."

His throat tight, Booth swallowed the rest of his coffee before he replied. "If you want me to . . . I guess I can do that." He picked up his fork and took a bigger bite of the pie. "At least this is chocolate . . . you should serve fruit pie, like peach for maybe blackberry."

"Yes, I probably should." Gordon picked up his fork and took a bite of his pie. "This is very good pie, even if I must say so myself."

Booth chuckled. "At least it isn't whale sperm or was it sperm on corn smut?"

Amused, Gordon laughed. "Not for dessert, Booth. Never for dessert."

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Let me know what you think of my story. Thank you.

A/N: No Man is an Island – poem by John Donne

No man is an island

Entire of itself

Every man is a piece of the continent

A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea

Europe is the less.

As well as if a promontory were.

As well as if a manor of thy friend's

Or of thine own were:

Any man's death diminishes me,

Because I am involved in mankind,

And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;

It tolls for thee


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